Deep Anxiety
by sharde
Summary: My first fic... Lut Gholein is attacked by an unknown foe and have requested the aid of the Zakarum Church...
1. Storm's a Brewin'

** Chapter One: Storm's a Brewin'**

Disclaimer: Any references to the actual game is credited to Blizzard Entertainment and I do not own any characters, locations or the game itself, only ideas.

Author's Note: Please note, this is my first fan fiction, or full length story. Also please note that this first chapter was intended to be short because in order for me to continue, I need to know I'm not writing this for nothing. So please review :). And enjoy. 

A raging sandstorm kicked torrents of grit across the desert. Lut Gholein had been under heavy siege for the last two days, but not in a way one might believe. Torn corpses of defenders lay scattered near the gates, as men covered their eyes to avoid the storm's blinding tempest. Jerhyn, the leader of the city, rode up alongside Greiz, commander of the Lut Gholein army and bellowed over the storm. "Any luck in finding out what caused this?"

Greiz spat grit from his teeth and wiped his mouth with the back of his gauntlet, "No sir, the attackers still haven't shown themselves." Jerhyn sighed and threw his scarf across his face to shield himself from a flurry of sand that passed over them. _It's starting to become increasingly worse... I've never witnessed such a storm!_ "Well, then come along Greiz. Whatever it is, we need to get back into the palace and form some sort of plan. Out here, we're merely asking to be swept away by the storm. I doubt the attackers are having as much luck as we are with it."

Greiz squinted, blinked several times and grunted. Had he just seen the silhouette of a demon? Surely not, demons didn't exist. Must be the fatigue and the storm... He rubbed his eyes and peered again... "GREIZ!" He nearly jumped out of his saddle, Jerhyn had been concerned with his friend's silence. "Yes sir, we need a plan..."

***

Jerhyn sat, hands folded in his lap, eyes glaring at the table. He was pondering, the attacks had happened during nightly patrols, each and every soldier sent out was now strewn across the desert. Greiz was leaning back in his chair, plucking meat from between his teeth with a bone, glaring at Jerhyn patiently. He contemplated sharing his hallucination earlier today with him, there was no other evidence, no clues to base theories on as to what had happened. Reluctantly, Greiz opened his mouth.

"Sir I-"

"We must request aid from the Church." Jerhyn cut him off, not realising Greiz had spoken. Greiz gritted his teeth, he despised the Church and its teachings. Lut Gholein had in its own right, never had such problems that their own army could not withstand. Greiz disowned any use of magic and did not believe in anything that he had never seen with his own two eyes, demons were a fine example. He had been read tales of the Three as a child, and how they would enter his dreams and his soul would be lost forever. He knew his parents only told him such lies to ensure he was brought up right.

Jerhyn stared at him oddly, "Did I... say something out of line Greiz?", the commander shook his head, he had not told Jerhyn or anyone else about his disbeliefs, he swallowed hard and shook his head slowly, "Not at all Jerhyn... But, is it really necessary?"

Jerhyn's face became grim, "If we are fighting an invisible foe, one that spares no lives, then it is not safe, our people must be safe. Should they get into the city, it would be disastrous. I know that the mages can provide a barrier of some sort to ward off these foes..." Jerhyn dug into his robes and produced a scroll. He found his pen and ink and began to write a request, all the while Greiz was deep in thought, reluctant to agree with Jerhyn, but reluctant about what he saw earlier that day... What was the world coming to? Were these legends in fact true? Or was he just expecting the worst and his mind had played tricks on him? He eyed Jerhyn silently as he wrote up the letter.

** To be continued...**

R/R please.


	2. The Warlord

** Chapter Two: The Warlord**

_ Disclaimer: I do not own Diablo, yet all characters mentioned in this chapter are rightfully mine. (I think :-/) _

Note: Thanks for the reviews, this one is a little shorter. Still in the process of fleshing out the introductory phase. 

Redderick Fain was becoming impatient. The sandstorm had temporarily hindered the siege and was causing plenty of chaos amidst his camp. His men had hurriedly erected a number of tents, though getting the horses shielded had been knowingly difficult. Draining the remainder of his mead, he tossed the heavy tumbler to the side and started poring through his attack plans and maps once again. He had set up a small, knee-high table and was sitting in the sand. The large tent was dark, save for the few wax candles he had lit next to him.

"The main gates are heavily defended and the south side is festered with sand creatures... BAH!"

He let his head drop into his crossed arms, he had lost much sleep over the past two days, and not only due to the execution of the siege... There was a certain reason to his insomnia, his madness and his depression. He fumbled with the heavy brass ring hanging from a chain about his neck, the symbols glared back, reminding him of his sacrifice and his inevitable doom.

He raised his head, startled as a chilling wind passed over him, there was a fizzle as the candles were snuffed out. Fain began to whimper and sweat rolled down his face. It had returned, and he was sure it was not pleased.

A hissing voice, harsh and raspy raised the hairs on the back of his neck, "_ You are far too ssslow Fain. I've given you sssstrict orders and you have yet to put my sssservices to good use. My massster is becoming restlesssss..._"

Fain did not bother to face the demon, instead he glared at the wall ahead of him, eyes closed.

"Every time I have sent men toward the city, they have been intercepted and have had to deal with the patrols... shortly thereafter the spell had already worn off..." 

"_ THAT IS INSUFFICIENT REASON! Your men should pay no mind to patrols, and they must make hassste when attacking._"

"Please... give us another chance-" Sweat dripped heavily down his brow now, he made no attempt to open his firmly shut eyes.

"_ Another chance... Another chance? Do you take me as a fool Fain? My massster has shown you mercy time and again, when you made the decision of sssserving him-_"

"I had no such desire! It was an accident..."

"_ Oh, but surely you knew of the ring'ssss hisssstory? A fine treasure it is, but when you bear it you become the ssssame sssslave as the one before you... My masssster has become impatient and will not hesitate to bring forth the consequencesss..._"

"No... Please, give us another chance! We... we shall attack tonight! During the storm, while they are unable to patrol the desert. We will admit you into the city!"

Fain was turned around now, facing the shadowy figure of the demon. He was shivering, the sight of it was hard to bear, even in darkness. The only thing he could make out was the massive height, the shadow of a massive tail slithering in the sand, and the fiery red glow of the demon's eyes...

"_ Perhapssss... That isss a proposition that goesss wisssse beyond your yearssss Warlord... Yet... there is always the sssssimple and much more reliable fashion of going about doing thissss..._"

Redderick was now on his knees, pleading with the demon, "No! We will succeed! Just give us more time, please!"

The demon emitted a croaky chuckle that made Fain cringe. There was a soft swishing noise as the demon advanced on the desperate human. Redderick sprawled backward, knocking over the table complete with the plans. A soft hiss and flicker of the demon's tongue made the man whimper.

"_ You have until dawn, human._" And with that, the figure let out a roar and slipped out of the tent in an instant, leaving Fain to drown in sorrow and anxiety.

** To be continued...**

_ Review please. _


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